Dangerous Pastime
by Tashasaphi
Summary: Action, Angst, Comedy and Romance. A year and a half after the endless waltz and NEA have risen to extortionate power. The Gundam Pilots have stolen new prototype gundams and are ready for action. They never reckoned on fighting a tigress, however...
1. Prologue 1

DANGEROUS PASTIME  
  
Sequel to School Days and Montage story by Natasha Klus (Tashasaphi)  
  
Disclaimer- All official Gundam Wing Characters, locations and machinery are copyrighted by their respective owners. The plot, other characters and machinery are property of Natasha Klus.  
  
Dangerous Pastime is set just over 2 and a half years after the end of the 1 year war. It is also set about two months after the end of my earlier fic 'School Days' where the Gundam Pilots return to school to try and learn to fit into ordinary society. I apologise in advance for killing off characters for plot progress and viability, as well as occasional OOCness and inserted characters and organisations. Dangerous Pastime is a sort of montage- you CAN read it without reading School Days (very old, very bad fic ) but you may want to read the sequel when it's posted. I can't guarantee you not wanting to. Anyway, now I've stopped stealing Brechtian Techniques, I'll get on with the Prologues. Ja ne.  
  
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**  
  
Prologue 1- Quatre's Story  
  
**Year AC 196, February 22nd**  
  
Quatre looked down the clean white corridor. It was so impersonal it sickened him. How did she end up here of all places? He thought to himself. He clutched the bunch of blue roses a little tighter and continued walking. People from all walks of life looked up at him as he passed.  
  
"Is that the Winner boy?"  
  
"Yeah! They say he has a sick relative in here."  
  
"Poor kid, I wonder why he's here?"  
  
"He looks so sad… it makes me feel bad when the youngun's have to come to this godforsaken place." Quatre ignored them. He was used to it by now. He passed a reception desk where two tall nurses watched him. The nurse with the brown hair scanned down her clipboard.  
  
"2 months to the minute. You have to admit, the boy is punctual!" The nurse with the red hair looked at her.  
  
"Yes, I suppose he is. Still, why does he keep coming? It's not like he's missing anything. The girl hasn't moved for five years except to breathe, and half the time we're doing that for her!" The brown haired nurse glared at her associate.  
  
"Oh don't be so mean! It's his sister! She's all he's got left now. She's the only one in this galaxy who can care about him now." The red head nodded.  
  
Quatre finally stopped at a large ward. It was all but empty. On the door, the sign read "Long Term Ward". Quatre sighed. He looked again at the nameplates. They still hadn't been changed. The closest family members had made them when the patients were transferred there. There were three names. Joshua Kensington was the first. He was an Orphan boy, and a nurse had written his note. The second was Annabelle Walcott. She was about twenty now, Quatre presumed, and her aging mother had written it. Finally there was a note on the door. It was written in very tiny and very forced calligraphic writing. Below it said a name and age. Quatre Raberba Winner, age 11. Quatre smiled a little. He read the name to himself. Cuatro Annilettia Winner, 'Kitty'. He sighed a quavering sigh and entered. Mrs Walcott looked up at Quatre and grinned.  
  
"Hello Mr Winner! It's so nice to see you again! My little poppet was waiting to see you again. Say hello, sweetheart." The girl in the bed winced a little. Quatre grinned.  
  
"Hello Mrs Walcott, Annabelle. I see she's perking up a bit." Mrs Walcott grinned and nodded vigorously.  
  
"Oh yes, love, she has indeed! Oh just last week she was smiling!" Quatre smiled. Mrs Walcott was a little insane. The death of her husband many years previously, combined with the death of her son in the war, and her daughter falling into a coma had driven her quite mad. She actually resided in another ward of the hospital, but she spent most of her time down here. It was the only way to keep her calm. Mrs Walcott's face fell.  
  
"It's so nice that you come and see her, lovey, a handsome young boy like you probably has so many things he could be doing, but you still come in here every two months to see her. How sweet of you." Quatre smiled weakly.  
  
"I could never live with myself if I left her for longer than that, and I simply can't afford to come more. I have to work so much, it's crazy!" Mrs Walcott laughed.  
  
"Poor sweetie, in my day the paper round was only every Saturday morning!" Quatre smiled.  
  
"I really must get on now, Mrs Walcott, I hope Annabelle feels better soon." Mrs Walcott nodded and clutched her daughter's hand.  
  
"Thank you, pet. Say bye now to the nice Mister Winner now, sweet heart." The girl did nothing this time. Quatre whispered a goodbye and waved at the sleeping Annabelle. All speech here was in whispers. No one dared speak above it. Quatre looked at the dust collecting on the other beds and furniture. He sighed. This ward was going to be knocked down in favour of a new research department and eating disorder ward. All the memories, however bad, would disappear with it. He continued on his way. Joshua yelled murder in his sleep. That was the only noise around here. Every five minutes, to the second he yelled out. Everything was clockwork here. But today was going to be different. Quatre reached the drawn set of blue curtains. He pulled them back and covered his eyes.  
  
"Can I come in? Your not getting dressed are you?" he smiled. He lowered his hand. There she lay. Her pale face was covered in the tubes into her nose and the facemask she needed to breathe. From her arm there was a needle plug in her arm. Quatre looked at his watch.  
  
"I bet you'll be wanting this, eh?" he said, his face smiling. He pulled the drip stand towards him and plugged the needle into her arm. The nurses always let him sort her out on the day he came to visit. She did not stir. She was like a porcelain doll, pristine, beautiful and perfect in every way, and she never stirred. She didn't dream. She didn't smile. She didn't wince at the sound of a familiar voice. She didn't scream murder once every five minutes. Heck, Quatre would love it if she yelled 'Quatre is a stupid little orphaned bastard'. He wouldn't care, as long as she did something. She had aged, only as is natural, except she still looked as much of a child as she did when she had come in, if not more. She was even more helpless. Quatre sighed and walked to the bed control. He pushed the up button. As if by magic, Kitty sat up. Her head lolled to one side. Quatre caught her and picked up her wooden hairbrush. He pulled it gently through her hair. She hadn't moved, so there were no knots as usual. Quatre sighed and leant her back down. He pressed the button again and Kitty returned to her comfortable sleeping position. He placed the roses down on the bedside table.  
  
"I brought you these," he said. She didn't reply. He sighed. "They're you favourite; I had them imported from you garden on earth, near the village we used to stay in during the winter. Do you like them?" Kitty lay as still as stone. He sighed, the tears now getting the better of him.  
  
"Did you know," he said quietly, "father got... killed in an accident. I thought I should tell you. They might not have done. Iria... she... died too. She died as I escaped..." he collapsed in a fit of tears on the bed sheets. The brown haired nurse who had come to see Mrs Walcott looked up.  
  
"Poor thing," she whispered, "do you think I should go and see him?" Mrs Walcott shook her head.  
  
"No, pet. He needs to be alone now. You mustn't interfere."   
  
Quatre sighed, trying to calm himself. He stared at Kitty angrily.  
  
"I need you," he whispered, "and you are not here. I need you to be here with me. I need you to know exactly what to say. I need you sit there, playing your harp and letting the strings cut your fingers until you bleed, just because your angry at me and want to make me feel guilty. I need you to slash the strings on my violin. I need you to cook me food that looks horrible and tastes great. I just need you to be there, and your not." Kitty remained still. He looked at his younger sister's face.  
  
"I need those eyes of yours to understand, Kitty. I need you now more than ever. Please, just for one minute, wake up." Kitty didn't stir. Quatre sighed and wiped his face. He pulled out a pocket mirror to reluctantly check his appearance. He felt so wretched doing it, but Jonathan would scrub his face before the meeting this afternoon if he saw tear tracks. Not good for the face of a multibillion dollar corporation to be morbid, after all, despite how miserable he felt. He sighed and began fiddling with his long fringe. He looked at his watch.  
  
"I have got to go now, Ok? I'll be back as soon as I can. The war is over. We are at peace. Maybe one day you will wake up to a perfect world." He got up and walked to the curtains. He heard a gentle snuffling behind him. He turned abruptly and stared in shock at his little sister. She lay still.  
  
"Must have been liquid in the tube," he said quietly, turning again. There was a quiet yet definitive whine behind him. He turned again. Nothing. He continued to watch, reciting a prayer in his head. Kitty's eyebrow twitched as she wheezed again. Quatre almost fell over in shock. He stared in amazement. Kitty's body suddenly seized up and she arched her back as she coughed loudly, choking.  
  
"Nurse!" Quatre screamed, running over, pulling the tube out of her nose and throwing it aside. Kitty's coughing fit continued. The nurse ran in.  
  
"Oh my god!" she screeched as she ran over to the computer beside Kitty and began typing in instructions. Kitty's coughing ceased. Quatre bent over her. Her face was tight with pain. She whined again. Slowly but surely, two amazing midnight eyes opened, and blinked at the light. Quatre burst into tears again, on his knees with his face on Kitty's stomach. She blinked again and looked down.  
  
"Qua..." she began hoarsely; sounding confused, but couldn't continue. Quatre got up and hugged her tightly. She whined at the compressing of her already tight chest. The nurse sighed.  
  
"Her pneumonia is still severe, Master Winner, but... as it seems, she is recovering. Amazing..." Kitty pushed herself up weakly. She looked at Quatre as he wiped his face off again. She touched her forehead and squeaked.  
  
"Wher! Wher?!" she cried out, falling into coughs. Quatre looked at her. He reached into his pocket and drew out a beautiful platinum headpiece of twisted metal and a rhombus diamond and sapphire teardrop. Kitty flopped back against the pillows in relief. She smiled as Quatre put her headpiece on. Quatre grinned.  
  
"I made sure it was safe and sound for you. I kept it polished too, just in case you woke up." Kitty looked at Quatre.  
  
"Woke?" she asked, getting the hang of her voice again. Quatre pulled out his pocket planner and showed Kitty the current page. February 22nd AC 196. Kitty started in the bed and blinked in amazement at the page.  
  
"How?" she asked, her gorgeous eyes working overtime, glancing around her cubicle. She looked over Quatre's face and touched it gently with a hand. Quatre smiled and clasped her hand.  
  
"You've been... asleep for the last five years, Kitten, times have changed." A tear fell down her face from her dark pools.  
  
"You... changed..." she whispered, stroking his cheek with cold hands, "how?" Quatre smiled.  
  
"I grew up," he said gently. Kitty looked over at the small TV the nurse had turned on as she went out.  
  
"Winner Corps have made no comment on the completion of the new colonies. These colonies will be entirely self-sustaining. They will have their own atmosphere; sot here will be no encasing. The idea is believed to have dreamed up by a young Quatre Raberba Winner, the new leader of Winner Corps. The first of these colonies was built almost ten years ago, and has been a huge success. However, the new colonies may take some time to built due to the recent take over Winner Corps by Quatre Raberba Winner, the heir to the Winner fortune," Kitty looked questioningly at Quatre, "Due to the untimely death of the former executive Winner Senior late last year." Kitty wailed in horror and collapsed on Quatre in tears. He exhaled shakily and hugged his beloved little sister as she writhed and sobbed against his chest. At least, through it all, they were finally together again at last. 


	2. Prologue 2

**  
  
Prologue 2- Kitty's Story  
  
**AC 197- the pilots have been away during the new war, which began as the gundams were sent to be destroyed. The Gundam Pilots are doing a bit of peace keeping just to make sure the new year begins without a hitch. Kitty Anne Winner has become a politician, opposed to Relena Peacecraft's ways and methods. (this is before school days- i.e- The Endless Waltz)**  
  
"Miss Winner!" Veinte Stockholm cried as he ran down the corridor. The girl continued to walk, her delicate heels clacking on the floor. He bronze hair bounced against her back. Veinte ran up to her and clutched her arm. She turned to face him and smiled prettily.  
  
"Mr Stockholm! Why do you hurry so? I did not call for you." Veinte finally caught his breath.  
  
"Miss Winner, I have a written response from Miss Relena to your last letter," he said, handing the white envelope over. Miss Winner grinned.  
  
"Then I shall have to begin my next parliamentary speech. Thank you, Veinte." She began to walk again. Veinte pulled a letter out of his pocket and sighed. Miss Winner froze. She turned to face him, her young face full of worry. Her two braided buns on her head gave her an even more innocent look. She looked at the letter.  
  
"Is that also for me?" she asked calmly. Veinte nodded.  
  
"Yes, it is, Miss Winner, but it had no date, nor identifying marks, other than your name. We don't know if it's safe." Miss Winner held out her hand.  
  
"Give it to me," she said sternly, "are you sure there were no identifying marks upon the letter?" Veinte frowned.  
  
"There was a dot in one corner of the back, but that is all." Miss Winner pulled out a small magnifying lens and held it over the dot. The dot was actually three very ornate letters, QRW. Miss Winner gasped.  
  
"Thank you, Mr Stockholm, but I must be on my way!" she jogged off down the corridor.  
  
"Kitty!" he cried. She turned and looked at him.  
  
"It is a personal letter, Mr Stockholm, now pry no further!" she ran off again. Veinte sighed and walked back to his office.  
  
Kitty flung open her door and slammed it behind her. She locked it swiftly then slid down the back of it. She ripped open the letter and avidly began to read.  
  
My Darling Kitten,  
  
I apologise for the lateness of this letter, but I found this was the most appropriate time to write. It is all over. I am a free man once more. Wars can no longer plague me and I am free to do as I wish. All I wish for now is you safety and sanity, and I wish I could be with you. Unfortunately, I am still required, for just a short time more, and I have some unfinished business with a friend of mine. Ah yes, the friend of mine comment, I bet you are sick of it now. I regret ever leaving you, Kitty, but there was no conceivable way of me staying. I have to fight, because I can, and now, it is all over, I can return to my life and resume my position.  
  
How are you feeling? How is your head? Have the scan results come back to you? When we meet again, I want to know all about it.  
  
All my love  
  
Quatre Raberba Winner  
  
Kitty rested her head against the door and let the tears fall. Tears of anger, tears of hatred, tears of love and tears of longing.  
  
"He's finally coming home." 


	3. Prologue 3

**  
  
Prologue 3- Duo's Story  
  
***Three Months after the end of the Maremeia war.***  
  
It had been a quiet few weeks at the scrap yard. A few sales here and there, the odd repair job, but nothing worth noting. This neighbourhood seemed boring after two years rebuilding and servicing specialist elite mobile suits. Duo wasn't complaining. He preferred peace to war, or course, it was just going to take longer than he'd bargained for to completely adjust. Hilde was helping. A lot. She was just as passionate about his career as he was, and she helped him run the business like only she could. They'd managed to pay back Howard for his original funding to get the place started, and now were in business on their own. After seeing so many young men go off to war, become terrorists and the like, the people didn't even bat an eye at two teenagers starting a business together. They just thought it was somewhat… cute. Duo blamed that judgement on Hilde. Her and her lilac pullovers! And that beret… He snapped out of his reminiscing and quickly finished off the final touches on the estate car's overhaul. Withdrawing from the bonnet, sweating and oil splattered, he snatched up the grey ragged towel from the desk chair in the corner and wiped his face. The umber coppery mirror displayed an autumnal and continuously grease smeared 16 year old, fast approaching his June birthday. Duo frowned.  
  
"This stuff's never coming off," he moaned, flicking the towel over the mirror and loping out of the garage. He absentmindedly rubbed his stomach. He couldn't tell if he was imagining the painful bruise anymore; every time he touched the flesh directly in front of his solar plexus he could still feel the thudding pain of the old bruise. He frowned. Lousy Japanese… Duo couldn't help but smile. That had been a blast, despite the gastronomic agony. He secretly prayed Heero had got a bruise out of that one, but he sincerely doubted it. Superman didn't bruise easily, unlike Duo the fragile little peach. His gig was stealth, i.e avoiding flying fists. Unfortunately, Heero forget the "and I'll hit you back" part of the "Hit me" comment. Duo looked out across the yard. A huge pile of twisting iron, reaching towards a golden terrestrial sunset filled his vision, and he slowly climbed in, calf muscles stretching and tightening with every semi-vertical step. Upon reaching the summit, Duo's cobalt gaze was flooded with yellow ochre as the setting sun shafted its golden rays through the city. He sighed. He heard a little movement below him and looked down. Hilde had turned to look up at him, smiling, her face glimmering in the streams of glow. Duo sat down beside her, leaning back against an old catalytic converter exhaust system. Hilde leant her head against Duo's shoulder. Words weren't necessary. He could feel how she felt with every glance and gesture she made unto him. In the waning light, Duo Maxwell gently kissed his girlfriend and vowed that they would never be parted.  
  
"Hilde!" Duo screamed. The world was television- lights flickering and blurry, sound false and accentuated. A huge mobile suit plundered on through main street, broadcasting it's loud message.  
  
"WINNER CORP HAS BETRAYED YOU! THEIR SHODDY ALL PROFIT WORK HAS CAUSED THIS DISASTER! THE NEA IN PARTNERSHIP WITH HIWATARI CORP, ABAROV ENTERPRISES, AFRICAN STAR ENTERPRISES AND YAMUE CORP WILL TAKE REVENGE ON THE SCUM RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS CATASTROPHE! JOIN..."  
  
Duo wasn't listening. Off main street in the smaller business district several tower blocks had collapsed. Duo's mind was a blur. All he saw was the world come tumbling down around him and watching Hilde vanish in a pile of falling rubble.  
  
"Hold on! I'm coming!" Duo cried, burrowing through the twisted metal and dusty concrete. Heaving without concern for his body, Duo tore the rubble apart.  
  
"Duo! Stop it!" Called Sandy from across the street. "You'll hurt yourself!" Duo's teeth were gritted. In the background, the young informative voice blasted out its message.   
  
"This is all a fraud," Duo hissed almost silently as he body groaned and hefted the rubble away, "a dumb way for some megalomaniac to take revenge on the richest corporation in the earth sphere. Okay guys, jokes over. You've made your point. Now put the building back up and bring back Hilde!" Suddenly there was a flash of white skin among the dust. Duo felt the lump that was weighting down his stomach leap into his throat.  
  
"Hilde!" He screamed, burrowing faster, more crazily than before. Cooling blood oozed and congealed over the ragged blocks. Duo could feel his chest heaving with distress and fatigue. He didn't feel being dragged away by his local friends. He couldn't hear anything but the beating of his heart and he couldn't see anything but the blood and the still hand across the broken slab. As he was pulled away, his cracking voice whined and called out, and his hands still weakly scrabbled as if to dig away the image in his mind. He didn't feel the sedative needle from the ambulance, nor did he see the recovery crews digging out his girlfriend's mutilated corpse. All he saw was the blood and the hand. All he heard was his heartbeat in his ears as he glazed eyes slowly closed, and a little black velvet box dropped with a clatter out of half furled hands. 


	4. Prologue 4

**  
  
Prologue 4- Relena's story  
  
**AC 197- just before the term when Heero SHOULD have been at school :)...**  
  
Heero Yuy rummaged deeper in the large cardboard box. His hand struck something soft. He pulled it out. It was velvet bound blue book, obviously aged, but it a perfect condition. Relena peered around the staircase at him.  
  
"I thought you said you were going to help," she sighed. Heero waved a hand at her. She frowned a disappeared. Heero opened the book gently. The front page read Peacecraft in dirty brown ink. He turned to the next page. There was a picture of a tree. It was the recent family tree, dating back 15 generations. He scanned it through until his eyes struck the name he was looking for. Relena. Beneath the name was a page reference. Beside Relena's name was Milliardo and the page reference. Heero was about to flick through the rest of the book when he noticed an anomaly in the book. Next to Relena's name was another name. Quatorce-Maria. Heero's eyes widened. Page 165. He hurriedly flicked through the book to the page. There she was, a beautiful little girl, yet very sad at the same time. She had long bronze wavy hair and midnight blue eyes. She wore a platinum headpiece with a rhombus diamond set in the bottom. Heero flicked to the next page. There stood three children. There was an older boy with shoulder-length blonde hair, a younger girl with blue eyes and browny-blonde hair, and an even younger girl with bronze hair, pale skin and those dark midnight eyes. Heero looked around. Relena was standing behind him, a hand clasped over her mouth. Heero stood up and handed her the book. She gazed at the page longingly.  
  
"Who… who is this?" she asked. Heero took the book from her and turned back to the family tree.  
  
"Quatorce-Maria Peacecraft," he stated. Relena gasped.  
  
"That can't be! I won't accept that it is!" She turned and walked away. Heero looked at the book again. He stuck it in his jacket pocket and went to help Relena unpack her things into her new house. 


	5. A Whole New Girl

Chapter 1- A whole new Girl  
  
Location- The present day (3 months after the attack on the Conference), Winner Estate 26- Kitty's Winter House.  
  
Jonathan ran a begloved finger along the top of the fireplace. Rain smattered on the window pane as an august shower rattled over head. The old brickwork house's metal drain pipes clicked and hummed as the rain drummed on it's surface.  
  
"That's fine, Li," Jonathan commended, "now, the taps all need polishing, the plugs need de-scaling and the rug needs beating." Li cocked his head.  
  
"How can I beat the rug in this weather?" he asked. Jonathan sighed.  
  
"Take it into the basement and beat it there. She'll wake up soon, and you know what sort of foul mood the rain puts her in. Go on!" Li scurried away, beckoning Abby to come and help him. The telltale creak of the wooden floorboards echoed in the open house. Jonathan shuddered. He had been in Mr Winner's service for some years now. His father, being a maguanac soldier, had made him become employed in the service of 'Master Quatre'. However, though Jonathan had stood by Quatre through the confrontations on 96, and the quiet times of early 97, this was an unexpected and unpleasant turn for the worst. Quatre had gone missing again. His father had said something brief about the war and gundams, but Jonathan knew no more than that. An explosion had taken place at the National Conference Hall on L7 colony where Quatre had been residing. His little sister had been the only major injury, and something else had happened. Her entire temperament had changed. She had been once kind and gentile, though a little prudent. Now she was rude, bossy and a little over bearing. Jonathan couldn't help but dislike her. No one liked her. She had fired her Father's handmaid, Una, a few weeks ago, and she had a constant stream of new employees flowing in as she kicked out almost every employee she had. Abby had been there three weeks now. She was doing well. Li's father had been the Winner chef, employed for special occasions. Li had been employed to replaced Una, having all the cleaning and cooking skills she had possessed. Abby ran out of the kitchen, rug under arm and vanished down the steps into the servant quarters. Li ran back into the kitchen from the under-stair closet, 'SINK DOCTOR' and cloth in hand. Jonathan sighed. He was supposed to be an assistant, not a butler. He tried to loosen his shirt collar a little, but to no avail. He replaced the six ornaments on the mantelpiece and walked back over to his post next to the entrance hall of the old manor house. There was a snuffling nearby as half grown pet bull Sagittarius begged for food. Jonathan frowned. Quatre's pet- he was a gift from a nearby farmer on L7 for the Winner family's cheap rental of their land for fallow grazing. There was a shuffling, and then a small thud as a person upstairs started their walk across the landing. Kitty still wasn't strong enough to walk completely unaided, though she practised gymnastics, martial arts and sword fighting everyday. The walking frame knocked against the floor again. Sagittarius rocked back on his haunches, actively begging.  
  
"Go away!" Jonathan muttered. Li dived back in the under-stair closet, before shutting the door and resuming post beside Kitchen door.  
  
"You're sweating," Jonathan hissed. Li mopped his brow with his apron.  
  
"So are you," he replied. Jonathan frowned. Abby was still beating the rug. She was going to get fired. The thumping came to a stop. Sagittarius looked away from Jonathan, and trotted to the base of the stairs.  
  
"Good morning, gentlemen," Kitty said quite pleasantly, folding up the frame under one arm and slipping into the stair-lift. It was the only reason she stayed at this house. It was installed with a stair-lift, and she didn't want to damage the beautiful staircases in her other properties. The lift hummed as it moved down.  
  
"Where is Abby?" she asked formally, eyeing Jonathan. Jonathan kept his gaze central.  
  
"She is cleaning the kitchen rug, ma'am," she said calmly. Kitty frowned.  
  
"Why has she not finished her morning duties? It is nine fifteen, Jonathan!"  
  
"I am quite aware of that ma'am, but…"  
  
"Was she not up by five thirty?"  
  
"She was up at five, ma'am."  
  
"Then why isn't it ready?" Kitty smacked her frame against the floor and climbed out of the chair. Kitty tried to unfold it again. The clasp was stiff. Kitty frowned, trying to ease it open. As she applied pressure with her thumb, her nail split and broke. Kitty growled and flung the frame away, where it promptly opened. Li bit his lip. He wouldn't laugh. It wasn't funny… oh god…  
  
"ABBY!" Kitty bellowed, spooking Sagittarius the coward away. There was a clacking of heels and Abby entered the room, brown hair tinged grey with dust, bearing the rug.  
  
"My lady," she curtseyed. Kitty squinted at her.  
  
"Is that dust in your hair?" she asked. Abby swallowed.  
  
"I had to beat the rug in the basement, madam, it's too wet outside. I got dust on me then." Kitty pressed her fingers into her temples and sighed a quavering sigh.  
  
"Do you have any idea why I have a porch, Abigail?" Kitty hissed. "Do you think I use it for sunbathing?"  
  
"N-n-no ma'am," Abby stammered.  
  
"Do you think I keep my house plants there, Abigail?"  
  
"No ma'am."  
  
"Then why is it there you blundering oaf!" Kitty bellowed, thumping the banister. Abby jumped. Kitty sighed and took a steady step forward. "The porch is there so when it is wet, my rugs can be beaten without my incredibly idiotic staff looking like street urchins! Get out of my sight, Abigail! And get yourself cleaned up. I want you in my office in an hour." Abby burst into tears and ran off, leaving the rug on the floor. Kitty rolled her eyes.   
  
"What has happened to the serving staff nowadays?" she asked no one. "Li! Pick up that rug! I want it re-laid in the kitchen! Have you finished your morning jobs?" Li snatched up the rug.  
  
"Yes ma'am!" he replied, forgetting his giggles. He was actually quite furious. Abigail was going to get the sack. Kitty nodded and rubbed her knuckles.  
  
"Then make me some breakfast… something light." Li bent a little at the waist and stiffly re-entered the kitchen. Kitty took another step without her frame. Jonathan walked behind her, quietly and discreetly as possible, and collected the frame.  
  
"Your frame, madam," he said gently. Kitty shot him a violet* glare.  
  
"Don't patronise me, Jonathan," she barked. "Go an fetch my mail. And I want the television in my office on the news when I get in there, alright?"   
  
"As you wish, madam," Jonathan said as sweetly as he could. He marched off towards the front porch. He had to get out of this place. And fast.   
  
*AN- It's meant to be violet*  
  
Kitty sat in her oak panelled office, nursing her arching legs. She hadn't had to balance herself in a long while, and it had really taken its toll. She picked up and ornate letter opener, encrusted with rubies, and sliced open the top of her first letter neatly. She removed the letter and laid it on her table, before getting up to check her appearance in the mirror. She frowned. Her hair was duller than it had previously been. Being an invalid didn't help you hair treatment skills. Kitty undid the clip which held it up, letting the brushed-bronze locks fall about her shoulders in their natural curly mess. She groaned. Another problem with being an invalid is that you don't have time to straighten your hair on a daily basis. Kitty turned a little to examine the length. It was already half has short as it had been- Her hair had been so matted with blood, and there had been so many injuries needing stitches to the head they had shaved it all off in the hospital. It was now just along the top of her shoulder blades in length, a little ragged at the ends due to the erratic hair growth she had, and the dreadful spilt ends which shot up the delicate shafts. Kitty scraped her hair back in disgust and clipped it up swiftly. She pulled at the darkened rings below her eyes. She needed to sleep more. It made her feel sick to think how dainty and delightful she used to look. She was no more than a wreck of what she had been. She had lost a lot of weight, which had flattened her chest, and reduced her once attractively shaped legs to only the bare minimum of muscle. That was changing as she trained, but it wasn't good enough. She could never re-gain what she once had. She had already come to terms with that. Her hips were still nicely curved, but her backside was no more than a shadow of the curvaceous cheeks which had used to adorn the bone. Kitty frowned and opened the top button of her cream blouse. Her collar bone stuck out more than she liked, making her seem even more rickety than before. Her skin was paler than it had been. Her cleavage was a disaster. No push-up bra was going to change that. Kitty grinned at her own self criticism and re-did up the button. She placed a hand on her stomach. Flat, concave even. She lifted her blouse up to reveal the pale skin. Ribs left faint shadows across her torso, joined by something worse. Scars. Puckered, purple and white lines ricocheted across her frail form. And down in the left hand corner, just above her skirt line, was the pies de resistance. A large, about the size of a plum, and almost round bulbous scar, slowly subsiding to become flattened and ugly, bulged out of her abdomen. Kitty crinkled her nose. Great. I've got a grapefruit stuck to my side, just great! Kitty dropped her shirt once more and shrugged her midnight blue jacket back onto her shoulders. Her mirrored eyes met her own, blue, almost liquid as the iris swirled with varying shades of blue. The eyes scanned both faces. Both were disgusted by was the saw. All down the left hand side of the face were reddened, bubbled, ugly scars of the burns and scrapes which had attacked her face that night. She had been told that they would slowly heal… leaving no more than scratch marks. That wasn't good enough for her. That was going to take far too long…  
  
Knock Knock.  
  
Kitty dashed back over to her desk and sat down. She smoothed the top of her hair.  
  
"Who is it?" she asked.  
  
"Jonathan, madam," said a voice, "I have brought you your breakfast… and Sagittarius." Kitty smiled.  
  
"Come in, then," she called, smoothing the folded paper of the letter before her. The door opened and Sagittarius trotted in, chewing on a carrot. Jonathan waited for the creature to move before entering, laying down the tray of apple slices and cereal, and then switching on the television. The news of another mobile suit battle flooded the screen.  
  
"Madam?" Jonathan said quietly.  
  
"Yes, Jon," Kitty replied, pouring the milk onto her cereal.  
  
"You do realise that I am not supposed to let you see this sort of thing… it might give you a relapse."   
  
"Yes Jonathan," Kitty sighed, reading through another condolences letter. She glanced at a picture on her desk.  
  
We are all deeply moved by you relentless struggle to carry on, even after you have lost so much. We all hope for the finding of your brother, safe, in the near future, and we all wish you health and happiness in this trying time.  
  
Trying? Kitty stared more closely at the picture. She was standing, the old her, with a young gentleman, very handsome, with startling blonde hair and a pale complexion. This was Quatre. This figurehead of the news. This monotonous topic of all her mail. And every time she replied to these well-wishers, she had to pretend she knew what the bleep they were droning on about. How could she even pretend to care about someone she didn't know? To her, the face was just an image. No memory, no voice, no more pictures flowed into her blank mind from this picture, or any of the others people had sent her or tried to put up around her house to help her remember. Maybe she didn't want to remember. Maybe this fresh start was a nice, relaxing change for this tired soul. She had the feeling that she had had one too many new starts, like new gifts of life, and she was troubled to appreciate it. This was why she wanted to keep things simple, her mind free from the tiresome emotions that others experienced. She was happy just being her, not sister to the missing Minister Winner. He was dead. Big deal. Why was she the only one who could accept the facts and get on with it? Maybe it was because she didn't know this 'brother' of hers. Maybe he had been something special- a tool of the world. Maybe she ought to miss him greatly…  
  
"Madam?" A voice awoke her. Kitty blinked and sat up.  
  
"Yes Jonathan?" she said quickly, folding the letter again and brushing it aside. Jonathan loosened the top button of his shirt.  
  
"I want to give you my notice," he said meekly, handing her the plain white envelope. Kitty arched her brows.  
  
"I see," she said, placing the envelope under the pile of mail. She looked up and met eyes with her butler. Although he numbered more years than she did, she felt so much more mature than he was. Probably because she had lived so much more than he had, although she had little memory of it. She smiled weakly.  
  
"I'm not going to fire Abby," she said lightly, "if that is what this is about." Jonathan shook his head.  
  
"My father told me to work for Master Quatre. I feel I am failing in my efforts. I am going away to find out what I must really do to aid Minister Winner, wherever he is." Kitty sighed.  
  
"I understand, Jonathan," she whispered, toying with the soft hair atop the bull's head. "If you wish to leave, that's quite alright with me. I will miss you, of course, and I will expect you to find me another butler before you leave." Jonathan nodded.  
  
"Of course madam," he answered. There was a pause. The tv droned on in the background, reporting on an outbreak in a hospital of legionnaires. Kitty frowned.  
  
"Isn't there something you could be doing?" she asked. Jonathan straightened up immediately, and with a quick "yes, madam," he shot out of the door to get to work. Kitty looked around her, before leaping from her chair, dashing to the door and shutting it. She dashed over to the window and shut the curtains. She picked up the phone and dialled a number, waiting for the screen to come on when the person at the other end answered. She was getting rather tired of playing the incapable, not to mention her ungrateful staff. 


	6. All Hail the Gundam Pilots

Chapter 2- All Hail the Gundam Pilots  
  
Location- Colony IW35899, L2 sector. Outer shell. A week after the explosion at the Conference. Yes. I like to Time Travel. Don't you?   
  
A small unnoticeable ship was attached to the outside wall of the colony. Inside, scanners would have picked up 5 heat signatures. These five heat signatures belonged to five pilots, trying to get a grip on their new situation, and awaiting their mission briefing.   
  
A loud noise escaped one of the sleeping rooms, coming from Duo's wide open mouth as he slept. He was having a nightmare. Heero groaned and slammed the door as he walked past. All this waiting around was doing his head in. The effects were clear in his comrades too. Duo was sleeping more, but having nightmares every time he shut his eyes. Trowa would sit before the television, staring at it soullessly, until he drifted off into an exasperated sleeping state. And Wu-fei. Well, he didn't seem to sleep at all. He just sat, pretending not to listen to the news and wringing his hands. Heero had sworn he'd been crying a few times, but he wasn't going to question the poor guy. Heero wasn't even sure if Quatre was aboard. Trowa said he was, but Heero hadn't seen him. Heero sat down at the control desk and switched on the radio, trying to intercept any messages. Silence. No one was talking just yet. There was a thump from behind a closed door as Duo rolled out of his bunk.  
  
"Mrrfffghh!" he said from behind the door, before tearing the door open and storming out into the living area… in a sleepy rage. Heero switched of the radio and turned in his seat.  
  
"What was it this time?" he asked. Duo shrugged.  
  
"Some chick died… then came back to life…" he waved his hands around as he tried to explain.  
  
"Zombies?" Trowa asked.  
  
"Naw… not zombies…" Duo fell onto his face on the sofa. "I ain't afraid of no zombies…" and with that, he dozed off again. Trowa rolled his eyes.  
  
"We got any sleep-eez?" he asked.   
  
Heero frowned. "Dunno, but if we do it'll be in the kitchen."   
  
Trowa got up and stretched. "I'll go check," he sighed and walked off towards the kitchen area. Wu-fei lay back a little in the arm chair dubbed 'his' and sighed.  
  
"I'm sick and tired of sitting around!" he whined, "If anyone picks up the signatures, we'll be captured instantly!"   
  
Heero shook his head. "They've no proof of who we are. They'll just think we're space gypsies and fine us for being tagalongs."   
  
Wu-fei frowned. "Whose gonna believe that five juvenile space gypsies decided to set up shop in an aircraft carrier with five illegal mobile suits which are supposedly non-existent?" He gestured towards Nataku's head, clearly visible through a pane of glass. Heero frowned.  
  
"We'll move on as soon as we get word from Dr J and the others," Heero said, his voice no louder than a growl.   
  
"But they haven't made contact since you emailed them on your laptop! Are we supposed to sit here and suffocate? The oxygen tanks and back up life support won't last forever, Yuy!" Heero shot a glare at Wu-fei.  
  
"What's up with you?" he asked sharply. Wu-fei bit his lip and looked away. The news roared in the background.  
  
"News Bulletin! The clear up work on the Inter-colony conference hall began today. The authorities have now confirmed that it was terrorist attack, perpetrated by members of the Earth forces who attacked the colonies two weeks ago. Today, after much deliberation, the ministers of the colonies declared that an army will be gathered to attack earth, and fight forces such as the New Earth Alliance, or NEA." An image of five men appeared on the screen. "This image shows the leaders of the NEA, Abarov, Hiwatari, Oninetchi, Yamaue and Solonne. They spoke to their forces earlier today…" the news continued to broadcast the image of the massive NEA army, watching their leaders as they spoke of true peace and righteousness.  
  
"I'm surprised you haven't kicked the TV in yet," Trowa mused, re-entering the room with a small bottle. Wu-fei sighed.  
  
"I'm waiting for a piece of news," he replied meekly. Trowa dribbled a little of the powerful smelling liquid onto the cushion under Duo's head, and youth stopped twitching, lulled into a calm sleep by the strong relaxing vapours.   
  
"In other news, the only true victim of the attack, Miss Kitty Winner, is reported to be recovering from initial shock. Here is Serra Lloyd with the report." Wu-fei's head snapped around. Heero rolled his eyes.  
  
"You are so hung up on that girl," he sighed. Wu-fei shot a glare at Heero.  
  
"I'm the reason she died!" he barked. Heero frowned.  
  
"She didn't die, Wu-fei, look." The images on the news showed the initial shots of Kitty's almost lifeless body being removed from the scene, before showing the frail figure in the hospital, bandaged almost from head to toe. Wu-fei's eyes widened.  
  
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, before having to leave the room. Trowa sighed.  
  
"Poor Kitty," he whispered, "they say she was about ten feet from the door when it blew." Heero showed no emotion. He looked at the screen, the camera zooming a little as if to entice the audience to rise up against the perpetrators. One wrist lay slightly un-bandaged, revealing heavy blue-black bruising.  
  
"In some way, we're all responsible, I think," Heero whispered. Trowa sipped at his drink.  
  
"I suppose, but soldiers don't blame themselves for casualties along the way. That's the incorrect way to look at things. If we regretted every man lost in the wars we've fought, we'd have millions of angry souls on out hands. Just think, in that final battle, close on 100,000 people died."  
  
"That's a lot."  
  
"No kidding," Trowa managed a weak smile at Heero's sarcasm. Heero was going soft, compared with his original frame of mind, but that didn't change his feelings about war. There was a beeping noise near by. Heero snatched up his laptop.  
  
"Dr J," he greeted the familiar face on the screen.  
  
"Heero, it is good to see you so well," the familiar voice said. The face was different, however. More tanned, a little less tense. "I received your email only moments ago. A bad connection or something. Let's get down to business."  
  
"Roger," Heero settled further into his chair. Trowa was listening intently, though his face remained indifferent as he sipped at the warm beverage.  
  
"I'm not going to give you any orders, Heero," the Dr said with a sly grin.  
  
"What?" Heero exclaimed. Dr J laughed.  
  
"Don't try and ask any of my colleagues either, because they are in the same frame of mind. I told you two years ago that you last mission was to finish the war, and not get killed. I'm no longer your trainer. I'm an old acquaintance who should have perished years ago, but was allowed to live through a chain of luck. I am not going to tell you what to do any more."  
  
"Then advise me," Heero pleaded, "as an old and wise acquaintance, tell me what I should do." Dr J smiled.  
  
"You've changed, boy, you really have. The arrogance has melted from your soul. Did she do this to you?" Heero felt a slight heat on his face.  
  
"Please," he repeated. Dr J sighed.  
  
"Are you all there?" he asked. Heero nodded. "Good. I will call you back in three hours for your 'advice', and I want every gundam pilot present. That'll be it Heero. I shan't advise you again. Do you understand?" Heero smiled.  
  
"Affirmative," he said formally, before closing the screen. Trowa looked up.  
  
"I can understand why he's reluctant to get involved. I mean, who would want to become an advocate of war if they had a choice. I'm glad you persuaded him, though." Heero sighed and lay back. He picked up the remote and switched off the television.  
  
"I'm sick of hearing bad news."  
  
His knees were blurred, but he knew they were just below his chin. His arms enveloped them in a comforting embrace. Images and emotions kept rolling through his mind and body, sending him into spasms of fear, pain and sheer and petrifying stillness. The inevitable misery of mortality bore down upon him like an ocean, crushing him beneath its weight, destroying him almost. He would hold on. He had to. Besides, Gundam Pilots are immortal, and dreams aren't deadly. There was a knock on the door. Quatre pulled further backwards into the shadows of his alcove-bed.  
  
"Who is it?" he asked quietly, hugging his knees so tight that it strained his hips to the point of pain. He could just imagine and evil spectre, enveloped in a cloak of darkness, to open that door and smother him. Death. He'd seen so much of it, and felt so much of it that maybe Death would be a relief, a friend to his tormented soul. However, his frail human psyche, however abnormal, forced him to fear the ghoul that hung over his every step and it was that unfounded fear which had forced him into hiding for the past week.  
  
"Trowa. May I come in?" The door eased open, casting the looming shadow of the tall boy across the floor. Quatre didn't look up. His knees were unchanging. His knees were a safe focus for his tired eyes. Trowa sat down at the end of the bed.  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked. Quatre turned his face away. The wall was unchanging too. The wall wouldn't die.  
  
"I'm fine," he replied gently, sighing heavily. Sighs were brilliant things, he had realised. A really good sigh cleared the lungs of air and the soul of grief for a few moments, like a new start. Trowa leant back against the brackets.  
  
"You were never a good liar," he said with a sympathetic smile. "We're not expecting you to be fine. We understand what's wrong, and we're not asking you to prance about like nothing happened. We just wish you felt the strength we are trying to give you as your friends, and we wish you'd come out of here. Maybe talk to Duo or something. He's not feeling to great either." Quatre sighed again, this time the subtle breathy notes quivering a little with the convulsions of oncoming tears.  
  
"I told you I'm fine," he repeated, a little tension building in his sweet voice as its volume increased.   
  
"And I told you not to lie," Trowa shot back. "Stop hiding in that corner and show your grief. That's how to truly grieve for the ill." Quatre's head snapped around, eyes flashing violently with the internal fire of his pain.  
  
"She's dead for Christ's sake! Not ill! Dead!" He barked, his voice cracking a little. Tears began to form, perfect glittering orbs along his thick lashes.  
  
"She isn't dead Quatre, and if you'd stop acting like a little girl and hiding in the corner you'd know that!" Trowa slapped a hand over his mouth mentally. He hadn't meant that. Quatre straightened up a little. His brows were drawn and his eyes narrowed.  
  
"She IS dead! That isn't Kitty! That is an empty shell of what she was. I felt her die! I saw her cry out in my minds eye! I felt every torment she went through, right until the end." Trowa's eyes widened.  
  
"And," Quatre stuck his nose in the air, the tears now tracing lines against his drawn cheeks, "if you must insult me, do it out of earshot. I'm known to hold long grudges." Trowa got to his feet.  
  
"I didn't mean that, it came out wrong," he said gently.  
  
"Well that's what you were thinking!" Quatre spat. Trowa frowned.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry for insulting you, and I'm sorry that you've suffered, but this is the real world, Quatre! You are a soldier of peace, and we need you out there. Besides, she isn't…"  
  
"If she's alive, why can't I hear her?" Quatre snapped, glaring viciously at Trowa. "Why is there an empty void in my heart where she should be? You got any more answers, Trowa?" Trowa sighed and shook his head.  
  
"We're getting orders at 19 hundred in the living quarters," he said mechanically, before leaving the room, the door slightly ajar in a hope to breach the fortress. As he walked away, Trowa heard the door snap shut. The fortress was impenetrable, and not even the efforts of kindness would break its icy walls.  
  
There was a shriek from the living room as Duo woke up and fell off the sofa. Heero rolled his eyes.  
  
"You gonna get up now?" he asked. Duo rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm up!" he protested. "What time is it?"  
  
"Half six. We've got orders coming in half an hour." Duo nodded.  
  
"That's enough time for a shower… why the long face Trowa?" he glanced over to the taller boy as he sat, flicking aimlessly through the channels.  
  
"Quatre," he sighed. "I can't get through to him. Can you talk to him?" Duo frowned.  
  
"I s'pose I can shower later. What's up with him? I haven't really seen him all week.  
  
"Kitty," Trowa sighed. "He's convinced that she's dead. I mean, the pictures on the news tell us otherwise, but maybe the Winner's just made another doll, just in case of a situation like this." Duo hissed.  
  
"That's just sick," he whispered, turning away.  
  
"Really?" Quatre said as Duo came face to face with him. Quatre looked up into the American's deep cobalt eyes. "Do you find me sick, then?" Duo frowned.  
  
"I didn't mean that…" he began, "I meant that creating people for your own needs is wrong." Quatre's brows drew tighter.  
  
"Then my father was a sick man for creating me wasn't he?" Quatre hissed, "People are having a lot of trouble keeping their thoughts to themselves this week. Maybe it's the low oxygen levels." Quatre turned away. Duo caught his shoulder.  
  
"Dude, I'm sorry… I didn't know…" he began awkwardly. Quatre turned and stared into Duo's face. He sighed gently and looked away. There was a pregnant silence. He turned his face back, smiling weakly. There was an obvious internal battle behind those overcast eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry too," he whispered half-heartedly, "I know you didn't mean it. This has just been a frustrating week for us all. Besides, you are entitled to your own beliefs. My belief is that life is a gift, and we should accept it warmly. I made the mistake of not doing that before, and I don't want to make it again." Quatre removed Duo's hand from his shoulder. What time is it?" Quatre turned to Heero.  
  
"Six thirty two," Heero replied. "I'll go check on Wu-fei. He's been down in the hold for a long time." Heero eased himself out of his chair and walked over to the air lock. Quatre claimed the chair for himself, sighing heavily.  
  
"I can't wait to get off this ship," he whispered. Duo placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.  
  
"No worries," he reassured, "once the doctors get through to us, we'll be out of here in no time." Duo sat down on the chairs arm and sighed heavily. Trowa eased himself up and stretched.  
  
"I'm going for a shower, if you're not," he said, looking emptily at Duo, before leaving the room almost effortlessly. The pair watched him go. The television flickered in the background, muted. Quatre sighed again and picked up the remote. He was about to change the channel when Duo coughed lightly.  
  
"You want to talk about anything?" he asked. Quatre put the remote back down. The TV flickered on.  
  
"Not really, but I suppose you want to talk about something," Quatre sighed heavily. Duo got up and sat down on the edge of the opposite arm chair, leaning forward.  
  
"Trowa was worried about you… no, we're all worried, Quatre. We've barely seen you since we got on this ship, and then you and Trowa fighting? That's not like you!" Quatre groaned.  
  
"It's been a bad week Duo. I've been so reckless, just to run off like a little boy. So many things should have been organised, but there wasn't the time. I should have left a note to Rashid, telling him how to organise my secretaries and so on, and I should have written something to the maids…"  
  
"Somehow I don't think that's it…" Duo cut in lightly. Quatre looked up a little, and then down into his lap and at his unchanging hands again.  
  
"I'm… frightened, Duo," he finally said. Duo frowned.  
  
"Of what? Wait a second, you been having nightmare's too? Geez, the last one I had was like, call of the undead or something!"  
  
"No!" Quatre cut Duo off. "I'm frightened about Kitty." Duo looked across the room at the blonde. His pupils were dilated, eyes wide with no focus in their azure depths. "I felt her die, Duo." These words fell thickly in the close atmosphere. "I felt everything. Wu-fei will tell you. He knows." Duo could feel his hart rate quicken. What was Quatre talking about? The blonde youth got up and walked over to the observation window.  
  
"Kitty is my little sister. The one I was always closest to. When she was eight, she fell very sick, and was comatose for a good 5 years. She woke up just after the '95 war. Feburary 22nd, if I remember correctly. After that, things were different. She was different. There's something about her, Duo, that no one else knows. She can see things, things normal people can't see." Quatre looked up a little, eyes glassy. Duo frowned in confusion and concern. "Things I can't see. The only reason I know is because she's been sitting down with a dazed look on her face, and she'd suddenly run off upstairs in floods of tears. Within five minutes on the news, there'd be a special report of a bomb, or a mass murder. She can see inside people's minds. I don't know how… I can't explain it… but because of my Empathy, and her… gifts, Duo, we had a link. If I was hurting, she'd know, if she was hurting, I'd know. I felt her die Duo." The words fell hard and fast once more. Duo couldn't take it in.  
  
"Stop," he whispered, "I don't understand…" Quatre blinked, his pupils shrinking.  
  
"Oh my," he whispered, his face flushing with fear and embarrassment, "I shouldn't have said that… what was I thinking…" Duo got up.  
  
"No- no," he cleared his throat, "you got what's bothering you off your chest, and that's what matters. If I'm too dumb to comprehend… well that's probably for the best." Quatre blinked, before weakly smiling.  
  
"I suppose. Just… keep it quiet… please?"   
  
"Sure thing," Duo laughed, "with all the sleep-eez they've been doping me up with," he chucked his head towards the hold, "I surprised I can stand, let alone remember anything!" Quatre gave a little half-hearted chuckle. The television hissed a spat in the background. Duo stretched.  
  
"I'd better go see if Trowa's done in the shower…" he ambled off towards the showers. Quatre looked over at the clock. 18:47 flashed monotonously below the hobs of the stove. He sighed and leant back in the old chair. He didn't often get homesick, since he'd been travelling so much, but he felt a distinct longing to be back with his sister. Back in school. He wanted to go back to the debating society. He wanted to be stared at by that girl again. He wanted to play his violin solo in the orchestra again. He wanted to finish his DT project. Heck, he was beginning to miss the flagpole where his fertility had so often been compromised. He stood up lethargically and walked back to his room. Once inside, he lay back on his bed, and fell into the welcoming grasp of his memories.  
  
"…How can you possibly found an argument for war? There isn't one! We should try and live in a society where we can share our resources, where everyone can benefit. Do you really want to have to explain to your children why their mother or father is MIA? I know I don't. Wars a just a way to waste resources, kill off the human population of the earth and the colonies, destroy beautiful landscapes and the history of our race. We all lose at war. 100,000 lives or more were lost in the last war. The soldier's body count was less than this, but just think of the civilians who were caught up in air raids and other attacks. Think of peoples families. I lost my father and sister. I know a lot of you lost far more than that. I pray for the souls that have been lost, and that they will not have to witness another massacre." Quatre sat down just as the hammer fell to end his two minutes. The floor clapped vigorously. Annice Walters, a British girl from earth, stood up between the opposition and proposition. Annice, as Madame Chair, addressed the floor.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the house, since time is short, we will have to get right to the straw poll. You have heard the argument from the proposition," she gestured to Kenji and Ai Orikawa, "and the opposition," she gestured to Quatre and a girl named Sandra from the year above Quatre. "I now ask you to cast your votes for the motion 'This house believes that war is founded". Those for the motion?" About twelve hands went up, mostly the girlfriends of the thuggish boys who had been picking on Quatre for a while now. "Those against?" Quatre perked up and mentally counted as the hands went up. Twenty four! "Any abstentions?" A single hand went up. The girl stared quite intently at Quatre as she raised her hand. She did that every week. No one really knew much about her, only that she was quiet and unsociable. She was dazzling pretty, not like most of the girls at the school who flooded their natural appearance with makeup- this girl had naturally fine features. She had long dark hair, and she looked middle eastern or Egyptian in descent. Quatre didn't know her name, but he was sure it began with an E. Elle or something like that. Quatre met her gaze, but made no unusual expression. She returned the favour. Annice announced that the motion was not passed and dismissed the floor. The girl left swiftly and quietly…  
  
"Quatre, it's almost seven! Get up, dude!... why won't he wake up, Tro?"  
  
"Poke him. Usually works."  
  
"OW!"  
  
"Sorry, dude! I thought you were sleeping!"  
  
"I was thinking! You really think I'd fall asleep in ten minutes?"  
  
"I do…"  
  
"That's not the point, Duo!"  
  
"Will you two stop it? It can't have hurt that much, Quatre."  
  
"I've got a bruise right there!"  
  
"Oh…"  
  
"Wimp… OW!"  
  
"Are you guys coming?" a voice called out irritably.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Duo barked back, rubbing his arm. The trio dashed back into the lounge area where Heero was setting up his laptop and Wu-fei was pacing, his natural demeanour returning- proud arrogance mixed ever so carefully with something along the lines of PMS. Quatre couldn't help but crack a smile. It was another mission. The natural temperament of the boys was returning with their sense of purpose. Duo's nervous energy was in full swing- he was clicking his finger joints. Heero's impenetrable concentration had returned- it was clear in the way he flicked the switches and typed in the codes. It was very almost seven. A large window opened up on the screen. The boys gathered around expectantly. Doctor J flashed into view.  
  
"You're early," Heero smirked.  
  
"Your clock is slow," Dr J replied calmly. "Now, let's begin…"  
  
Location- Three Months Later (present day ^^;)- Winner Estate  
  
A young man stood in the rain, looking up at the curtained windows. He was watching a female figure intently. She was pacing back and forth behind a pair of large curtains, illuminated pink by the lamp. With his keenly trained senses he could just hear her angry words down the phone. He smiled, a young, handsome smile, barely creasing the soft skin of his face, and dropped a case. He took a step forward, peering more deeply at the window, and revealing a slight limp. He ran a finger over the healing gash to his upper lip and cheek, before dropping the finger to tap a button on a keypad at his waist. There was a beeping noise. The figure froze.  
  
"I think there's someone outside," said a muffled but clearly frightened voice, "I'd better call you back." T grinned.  
  
"Oh no, little kitty, I don't think you will be calling Miss Relena back," he hissed, "Since Miss Maria has far more, heh, important plans for you." 


	7. Good Morning, General

Chapter 3- Good Morning, General.  
  
Location- Classified. Present day.  
  
Quatre flipped through his clipboards contents. Coded documents regarding his gundam. The machine was incomplete, and he was surprised the back up system had enabled him to pilot it as much as he had. The new style frequency generator had been installed, along with the back up system, but the main system was missing several parts. He was going to have to fix it himself… or at least try to. He wasn't as talented as his sister had been with tools. DT at school was hard enough. He'd managed to break the band facer, a pillar drill and three coping saws in the first lesson he'd had. Duo had laughed at him. Trowa had patiently fetched him another saw and watched as he destroyed it… and Heero had quietly observed as he fixed up a perfect computer circuit for his moving toy project in five minutes. The delay had been due to the 'incompetent' technicians being slow bringing him his parts. Quatre smiled at the memory. That sweet period of peace. What a strange experience it had been. He had checked over the day's documents in the evening, which his sixteen secretaries and assistants had done whilst he was out, and by day he did his homework in the lunch hour, sat in lessons with fellow civilians and after school on a Thursday he'd go to orchestra. And as a bonus, every two weeks there would be a debating society meet. He was always asked to be a speaker, after the very first time he'd given it a try. He relished that time. Being liked, looking up to, admired by some, even. There had been that one girl… Elle or something, who sat at the back of the class and simply stared at him. She'd come to orchestra and play the piano, and she'd come to the debates and sit out in the floor, just silently watching. Flattery. How he loved it. There was a sharp clang beside him, and he squealed, jumping away.  
  
"SORRY!!" Duo cried from high above, gesturing towards the dropped central piston.  
  
"Careful, Maxwell!" Wu-fei chided from across the way as he sat in Nataku's cockpit, adjusting the controls, "that cost a bomb, and I'm not replacing it!" Duo winked at Wu-fei.  
  
"Come on, Fei! It's made of Gundamium! It's hard as rock!"  
  
"Actually it's a different alloy mixture than the stuff we're used to, Duo," Quatre said, kneeling down beside the enormous piston, "its more brittle, but fine once its greased and used a few times. But if you drop it, it could shatter due to the carbon content." Duo blinked and then cocked his head.  
  
"Whaddya whaddya huh? Whered'ya hear that loada googah!?" Quatre smiled weakly.  
  
"Kitty did a little work with pistons like these when she overhauled her jet last year. She told me about it…" Quatre suddenly trailed off, running a hand over the large cast component. Duo looked over for some comfort, but Wu-fei was hurriedly tapping away inside the cockpit. They all tried to avoid the subject of Quatre's little sister now. They'd all met her. The all knew her well. It was painful for most of them to think of her, and they all knew how upset Quatre could get over her. It had been two months since the accident now. All the news stations reported she was recovering well. They failed to report her sudden mood change from sweet, innocent, well brought up Kitty Winner to this prudent, obnoxious lump of vanity and pride that was, as Quatre termed it, 'the empty shell'. So of course, our poor misinformed pilots had no idea what was going on behind closed doors. The minicrane reached down and lugged the heavy piston back up. Quatre frowned and looked at the crate of parts waiting for him. This was impossible. Heero's trainers squeaked a little as he jogged down the corridor, wiping his hands with a rag. Quatre sighed.  
  
"Heero!" he called after the boy. Heero stopped and turned.  
  
"Yeah?" he asked. Quatre sighed.  
  
"Can you do the parts refit to Sandrock? I'll pay you! Anything, honest!" Heero snorted and began to walk away.  
  
"I'll do it, but while I'm at it, I'd better give you a lesson in mobile suit maintenance."  
  
"Guys, get down the office, quick" Trowa's voice crackled over the line. Heero glanced at Quatre, before jogging off in the direction of the office. Quatre was soon after him, with Wu-fei Duo shooting down the support cables and catching up. The four boys burst into the office at the same time to find Trowa hovering over the laptop, hurriedly clicking and scanning the screen with his emerald eyes.  
  
"What is it?" Duo asked. Trowa didn't look up.   
  
"The NEA have made the first move. According to this report on their log files, they've appointed a new Commanding General, Marianna Kittenne. She looks pretty young to be a general, though." The other pilots gathered around the screen and looked on the picture. An attractive girl stood before then, a sweep of golden brown hair covering one eye, the rest of her hair swept up under a military cap. Her eyes were black, her expression determined and stern. Her lips, painted a subtle shade of red, were turned down in a solemn frown. She was underweight, thin and beaten looking. She had obviously borne the brunt of hard times. Duo's eyes flicked over the screen.  
  
"Whoah!" he exclaimed, "she's just been brought in, and she's got full access! She decides which operations each soldier is placed on, which ships they use…"  
  
"And she's only there to lead cargo trips? Bullshit." Wu-fei placed a finger on the screen under her job status. NEA covered all cargo going from earth to space. They were continuing to provide supplies at this time, but it was just a matter of time before they pulled the plug on the colonies' earth based resources. Heero frowned.  
  
"Check background data," he commanded.  
  
"Done that. Drawing a blank. She's just appeared out of the ashes, it seems. No records, no certificates of rank, no birth certificate…"  
  
"She could have changed her name," Duo suggested. Trowa shook his head.  
  
"She's probably some colony based criminal who wants a fresh start and's threatened the NEA leaders into appointing her." Trowa looked at Heero. The Japanese boy sighed.  
  
"Then there's no threat. She'll flunk out pretty quick. If not, then we'll know we've got a problem. For now, I'd rather be worrying about fixing up that gundam…" Heero left the room. Duo stretched.  
  
"Yeah… me too. Call me if there's a problem Trowa." He followed Heero out. Wu-fei pulled a post-it off the notice board.  
  
"I'll re-fuel Heavyarms," he said, "you keep an eye on events." He promptly left. Trowa turned to thank Wu-fei, when he noticed Quatre. The boy, brighter than he had been, was perching on the edge of the desk, staring intently at the screen. His brows were draw tight, as if he were glaring at something he detested.  
  
"You OK?" Trowa offered. Quatre jumped a little and looked up.  
  
"Oh, it's nothing," he said lightly, "just deja vue, that's all." He got up and swiftly left the room. Trowa's gaze followed him. The taller boy sighed and sat back down at the keyboard and began his hurried typing again.  
  
Location- NEA Space Centre BetaPrime, 12 Hours Earlier. God Bless time travel ^^  
  
Commander Hiwatari leapt up from his seat, face blanched in fear at what the monitors showed.  
  
"Mobile dolls 32 through 96 are not responding sir!" cried a grunt, hurriedly running the scanner programs  
  
"Regiment Leo, regiment leo, come in, over!" cried the man on his left.  
  
"We're suffering severe casualties sir!" The grunt swung around, his eyes wide with terror. Hiwatari glanced at the other four commanders, all but one far older than him. Their faces were set with stony expressions, knotted brows taught above darkened eyes.  
  
"What is this magic?" Commander Oninetchi murmured, his thick dark lips barely moving. Solonne, a snivelling middle-thirties man, was mumbling under his breath next to him, eyes wide. Yamue sighed heavily, standing up.   
  
"Stop this," he whispered.  
  
"As you wish," said the woman silkily. A machine materialised, pressed against the side of the station, about to bore its way into the docking bays, now that the external defences were spent. The machine, about the same size as a mobile suit, pushed off the building, and its boosters kicked in, causing it to stop out by the third defence ring.  
  
"A magnificent display," Yamue pushed his chair back and walking calmly towards the woman. Abarov swallowed hard, his pale eyes whirling at the knife blade pressed against his throat. The woman frowned and pressed harder. The young gentlemen yelped as the blade cut through the skin, and a faint trickle of blood snaked down his blanched neck. Yamue froze.  
  
"What is it that you want?" he asked slowly, resting both hands on the solid mahogany stick he used to assist him in walking. "And in achieving what you want, why does my grandson have to die?" He took another step.  
  
"Please grandfather!" Abarov yelped, before the blade flicked up and gashed at his cheek.  
  
"Stand still and shut up," the woman commanded, glaring darkly at the four men at the table. Hiwatari, shaking hard, sat down with a thud and stared into his lap. Oninetchi whispered something to Solonne, who nodded slowly.  
  
"Speak up," the woman barked. Oninetchi glanced up, malice in his glare.  
  
"I said that you were probably a crack pot, escaped from some colony jail," he hissed. The woman smirked.  
  
"I'm from earth," she replied calmly, her voice taunting. Half her face was covered with a sweep of golden brown hair, the rest tucked up under a beret. A bubbling, half healed scar eased its way out from under her hair across her chin and the bridge of her nose. "My name is Marianna Kittenne. I was born in Luxembourg by illegitimate father and prostitute. I was raised in an orphanage, which I ran away from at 14, and became a mobile suit pilot and a mechanic. Hence my little friend out there…" She nodded at the screen, displaying the odd form of the machine.  
  
"Wh.. What is that thing?" Hiwatari piped up from the other end of the room.  
  
"It's a new mobile doll, idiot boy!" Oninetchi snapped.   
  
"Be quiet!" Yamue cried, silencing Solonne's consistent snivelling and Oninetchi's smart alec remarks.  
  
"It's a customised mobile suit," the woman began, before smiling, "and so very much more. I built it myself, as part of a trilogy of ships- a mobile suit, a jet and a battle ship… or cargo freighter, depending on what jobs are available. I can command them mentally. They run on a system similar to that of the gundams…"  
  
"The gundams?!" Hiwatari cried in disbelief.  
  
"Be quiet, boy!" Yamue barked at his other grandson. "Continue Miss… Kittenne was it?"  
  
"Yes," said the woman, "learn it well." The woman stared around the room with darkened eyes. Despite her diminutive stature, she gave off an air of womanhood, and great power. She flicked her gaze almost scientifically between the men in the room, Solonne cowered a little and sunk lower in his chair. Oninetchi averted her gaze proudly. Hiwatari, a far younger and stunningly handsome man, perhaps not even twenty, stared at her firmly, his deep crimson eyes burning with curiosity and his body visibly shuddering with adrenaline. Yamue stood, hunched with age and affliction, a pitted, ugly face, creased with knowledge and years of dirty dealing. She finally turned her head to the boy she held against the doorframe. He was a handsome young man, pale lilac eyes catching her attention and holding it momentarily. His hair was shorter than his cousins, but similarity between them was still there. His naturally pale complexion was blanched to an eerie, clammy luminescence of terror. The rich blood that now fell along his jawbone from his cheek and dripped onto his violet tie was bold against his skin. The woman smiled earnestly and pressed her lips against the other side of his chin. She began to speak again, carefully examining Abarov's fine features. "There's no value in explaining myself to you." She said louder suddenly. "It's a waste of oxygen, a valuable commodity in this desert you call space. Besides, you don't need to know. All you need to know is this: I'm taking over commands here." Oninetchi started and stood up, Solonne whimpering in his seat beside him. "All military operations go through me. I want an a command centre, lodgings appropriate for my social stature, three docking bays and a certificate of immediate Commanding General classification on my desk tomorrow morning. Clear?"  
  
"She's out of her mind!" Oninetchi cried.  
  
"Done," said the calm and calculating voice of Yamue  
  
"What? You can't…"  
  
"Be quiet Oninetchi, or I will have you removed!" Yamue barked. Oninetchi sank into his seat, mouth as a gaping hole in his dark face. Yamue watched him slowly sit, before turning back to the woman and his grandson. "You have a deal. You are head of commands, General Kittenne. The certificate will be on your desk tomorrow morning, as requested. Major!" A young man ran in and saluted, "take General Kittenne to the command centre in section D, and provide her with the key codes for Hangers 5 through 8."  
  
"Yes sir!" The major replied sharply, saluting. Maria dropped the knife blade and pushed Abarov away. He dashed back to his seat beside Hiwatari, shaking violently, and began dabbing at his throat with a kerchief. The door slid shut with a click. Yamue walked slowly back to his seat and stared at the monitor. The small ship vanished again slowly and scanners lost its trace. 


	8. Play with the Kitten

Chapter 4- Play with the Kitten  
  
Location- NEA Space Centre BetaPrime, Section D. Present Day.  
  
Jinto Hiwatari made his way down the corridor, flicking his blue-grey bangs out of his eyes. The soldiers who were milling around quickly removed themselves and looked busy. Not that Jinto cared. He was only here because his grandfather told him to come along. An organisation as shifty and twisted as the NEA needed a couple of bright young faces to persuade the population to sympathise with them. His grandfather had picked up the idea from a joke he'd heard about the Gundam pilots, or that's what he said anyway, before breaking out into his wheezy old laugh. Jinto didn't resent being here. It was a tad boring, and perpetually lonely, but he had his cousin to talk to, and some of the female soldiers weren't too bad to look at. That new general, for example. She was a bit too bony for his tastes, but she had a dark strength he'd not seen in anyone before. And there was no argument against her looks. That was probably why his grandfather had agreed so quickly to her demands. It certainly wasn't because she about to slit poor Nathaniel's throat. Jinto sunk into his memories as he continued aimlessly on his way. His father was a Japanese businessman. He'd been killed in an explosion just a year or so ago at an inter colony meeting. He wasn't supposed to be going, but he said he had to speak with the Winner Corporation's leader about something important. Of course, he never did get to speak to the brat. Jinto grimaced. That little blonde pipsqueak was the cause of all this. He could have stayed on earth if it hadn't been for him and his silly little company. Jinto's mother had been distraught. The Russian woman couldn't speak a word of Japanese, and she was left with an entire metal refining company on her hands, based in Japan. She'd just lost her husband, and she'd never been that confident anyway. She hung herself about two months after his death, leaving only the brief note "no more". Jinto had been shipped off to live with his grandfather, and organise the metal refinery remotely. Of course, he was just a pawn now. His grandfather had taken control immediately, and used the materials to build mobile suits and such. Jinto was rather satisfied by this. At least they weren't supplying the Winner's anymore. Just let them try and find a better refining company. He prayed that their shoddy colonies fell apart! Jinto stopped briefly to collect a drink from a vending machine. A pretty young soldier paid. Why should he make the effort to get out his wallet?   
  
"Jin!" A voice called out from a doorway up ahead. Jinto looked up to see his cousin smiling at him. The gash on his face was butterfly stitched… as was the one on his throat. The young man, seventeen years old, just like Jinto, came over. The young soldier obediently paid for her superior's drink without being asked.   
  
"How are you feeling?" Jinto asked as the pair walked on. Nathaniel took a swig of this drink, before swirling the contents of the can and smiling.  
  
"Could be worse, I suppose. Hurt like hell when she did it, though. It's fine now. Just ugly to look at."  
  
"Nothing new then?"  
  
Nathaniel laughed at his cousin's cruel wit. "Did you get the company reports? I had them forwarded to your desk."  
  
"Yeah. Not bad, considering were only supplying earth based companies. I'll have a proper flick through when I have a bit of time. Coming to check on the general?"  
  
"I was planning to go earlier," Nathaniel was nodding, "but I wasn't going to go get gutted on my own now, was I? That would just be selfish!"  
  
Jinto snorted. The pair walked on in silence for a time. Jinto looked over at his cousin. Nathaniel and he weren't that much alike. They both wore their hair longer than the soldiers because of their grandfather, but other than that they were quite different. Nathaniel was pale, extremely pale, with pale lilac eyes and platinum hair which went to the nape of his neck, the front slightly shorter, but he usually slicked it back. His mother was Jinto's aunt, but the sisters didn't really look a like. They were both dark haired, but Jinto's mother had dark eyes and olive skin, and Nathaniel's sickly mother was pale and feeble, with watery blue eyes in her blanched face. His father had just been a player, a weedy man, equally pale and watery, flaxen haired which was always greasy and roughly tied back. Natalya, Nathaniel's mother, had become blind due to her illness quite early in her twenties. She had no idea what a wimp she'd married, and she certainly had no idea what a creep he was. When Natalya died, aged 32, and Nathaniel was four, the father had taken his share of the will and fled, abandoning his little son. Nathaniel had been delivered up to his Grandfather, hence Jinto and Nathaniel meeting in the first place. They had met for the first time at ten years, and every year after that, until '96, when Jinto had been taken into his Grandfather's custody permanently. Even now, Nathaniel's breeding showed. He was short for his family, and poorly built. Jinto was relatively lean, but muscular, and tall (six foot 1). Nathaniel's head bobbed along at Jinto's shoulder, him being only five feet and five, and he didn't look much older than fourteen. He was very formal also, never dressing in anything less showy than uniform. Of course, his looked more like a school uniform, since he was so petite, and the uniform Yamue had laid on for his grandsons might as well have been a school uniform. It had a high collar, reminiscent of a priest's robes or a military outfit, on a single fronted jacket, with the NEA emblem on the breast pocket and left shoulder. There was a black belt, followed by straight leg pressed trousers, with a gold stripe gown the side. There was this golden military weave along all the edges. The only other factors of the midnight blue ensemble which gave away its military usage were the name badge above the emblem and the military rank stripes on the top of the shoulder. Jinto refused point blank to wear the uniform, unless it was some terribly formal occasion, and instead wore a white work shirt and faded blue jeans. Nathaniel drew out his diary and light pen from his front pocket.  
  
"Have the docking bays been organised?"  
  
"I suppose so. I told my secretary to arrange it."  
  
"Good. Uniform?"  
  
"It was forwarded this morning, along with documentation of all other requirements. Why are you so worried, Nathe?"  
  
Nathaniel frowned. "Because she's remorseless."   
  
Jinto stopped his cousin. "So?"  
  
"There is something wrong there, Jin! I can tell! Something… dark… unnatural. She has the knowledge of murder. She knows crime and sin. But she has no remorse, no trace of anything in her eyes… as if she's been programmed not to feel. She only cares about self-preservation…"  
  
"Last time I checked, all humans are selfish, Nathe…"  
  
"That's not it! I'm not lying, Jin! This is different. She's… wrong… and I don't want to get on her bad side." Jinto laughed coarsely and cuffed his cousin round the shoulders.  
  
"You are such a pussy, Nathe."  
  
"And you've got oil on your face, but I'm not complaining."  
  
Location- Commanding General Kittenne's Quarters, Section D, NEA Space centre BetaPrime. Present Day.  
  
"Target was acquired without difficulty. I left the cameras and tapes intact, as you asked.  
  
"Good boy. What's that?"  
  
"A newspaper report on the abduction of Lady Winner. I brought it as further proof, Miss Kittenne."  
  
"My my, aren't we efficient? Where did you leave her?"  
  
"At the drop off point, out of sight. The third alley to the left of the super market in colony…"  
  
"Excellent. You do have a good memory. I will call on your services again, T. Be prepared."  
  
"As your will commands, Miss Kittenne."  
  
"Now make yourself scarce. I have company." The boy left the room quickly, limping slightly. The door eased shut. Maria spun her chair around to face the main screen. She picked up the papers off her desk and flicked through them, before replacing them back on the polished black surface. The door slid open behind her, and two people entered.  
  
"Guests at this hour?" she said calmly.  
  
"Jinto Hiwatari and Commander Nathaniel Abarov, General. We are Yamue's grandsons."  
  
"I know who you are. How is your neck?" Nathaniel swallowed hard.  
  
"It's been better."  
  
Maria smiled and turned the chair. She was now in full military formal uniform, a short skirt, red, with a red jacket, white shirt and red peaked hat with her ragged short hair tucked up inside.  
  
"What brings you here? All my paperwork has arrived as requested."  
  
"I'm glad our secretaries are efficient," Jinto smiled. The girl looked good in uniform.   
  
"We came to see if all was well."  
  
"These facilities are sufficient, my ships are docking now. I only need my staff now…"  
  
"Some can be arranged if you'd…"  
  
"I am not an infant, Mister Hiwatari!" Maria was on her feet, glaring down the steps at Jinto. "I will choose my own staff when I see fit and who I see fit. You!" She pointed at Nathaniel. "You are in control of affairs?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Go and forward me a report of all cargo operations. Now!"   
  
Nathaniel swiftly left, nursing his neck. Maria's steely black gaze fell on Jinto once more. He could have sworn he saw a flicker of red behind those eyes.  
  
"Have you assessed me yet? Decided whether or not my location is satisfactory? Or were you just checking out my legs?" Jinto left immediately.  
  
Location- Classified. Present Day.  
  
His hands were shaking violently, the paper rattling as he shivered.  
  
"I came as fast as I could. I got a tip off from…"  
  
"Shut up…"  
  
"Yes sir…" Jonathan took a few steps backwards and sat down on the bench. "If I may sir, I'm glad at least your back. Perhaps your presence will help her ladyship…"  
  
"Shut up…" Jonathan frowned. Kitty going missing hadn't bothered him that much, but Master Quatre was distraught. Quatre slammed the paper down on his desk and hissed through his teeth. There was a pregnant silence. Jonathan, coughing slightly, got to his feet and poured himself a cup of tea. Quatre had his head in his hands.  
  
"Everything was so much simpler, Jonathan," he whispered, "before all this. I knew where Kitty was. I knew she was well. And now… I'm afraid I've inspired her to misbehave."  
  
"It's not your fault she changed, Master Quatre." Jonathan slid a cup of tea in front of the young executive.  
  
"No… I suppose it isn't. But her being kidnapped… surely I could have done something…" Quatre stood up and walked over to the window looking out on the docking bay. Duo was loading up Heavyarms' cannons and machine guns with Trowa. "Do you have the security camera recording?" Jonathan reached inside his briefcase and pulled out the card. Quatre inserted it into the system and scanned through. Kitty walked across the screen in her dressing gown, glancing around nervously. Suddenly she turned sharply, obviously startled, and a young man ran at her, pressing a chloroform towel over her face. She fell limp in the man's hand and he hoisted her over his shoulder. He looked up at the camera, grinned and hurried off, limping slightly. Quatre frowned.  
  
"I think…" he began, before shaking his head. "That's impossible. It can't be him!" Jonathan looked up from his tea.  
  
"Who, sir?" he asked.   
  
Quatre pushed his hands through his hair. "Can you fetch Wu-fei for me?" he asked narrowing his eyes at the screen. Jonathan left quickly. Quatre paused the footage again and focused the screen on the kidnapper.  
  
"It can't be him…" Quatre hissed.   
  
Wu-fei walked around the table, wiping his hands on a cloth. He froze up as he looked at the screen. "It's… T…" he hissed.   
  
Quatre frowned. "I thought so. I didn't think he could have gotten out of the conference building alive, but it seems he's up for hire now."  
  
"At least he's limping," said Wu-fei with a smirk. "he deserves it."   
  
Quatre ignored Wu-fei. "This means that whoever kidnapped Kitty is the same force that blew up the conference hall."   
  
Wu-fei smiled. "I'd bet Nataku it was the NEA. I mean, their new general looks pretty shifty. Maybe she ordered the abduction of your sister to draw you out of hiding."   
  
Quatre groaned, head in his hands. "I can't believe I let this happen though. I've been nothing but trouble to her ever since the start of this blasted war."   
  
Wu-fei shrugged. "Not your fault. You had to help." He sighed. "I have to go finish loading Nataku. I'm setting off for earth in a few hours."   
  
Quatre nodded. "Have a good one." Wu-fei left quietly and left Quatre alone again. He brought up the data on General Kittenne and frowned. "I know it was you. And trust me, you'll get your come-uppance." 


	9. Sitting Duck

Chapter 5- Sitting Duck  
  
Location- NEA Space Centre BetaPrime, Central Control systems area. Block 17. Present Day.  
  
"Can you believe them? Hiring a new general off the cuff?"  
  
"I know! We've got enough problems with Yamue and Onninetchi without another military hotshot bossing us around."  
  
"If you don't like it," a young man said gently, "you could always leave. Nothing's stopping you."   
  
The two other soldiers turned sharply. "No one asked you, Marlotte!" said the first.  
  
"You're not honestly saying you like being treated like a slave all day?" said a nearby soldier, drumming away at a keypad.  
  
Drake Marlotte shrugged and smiled a slightly crooked smile. "It's not all that bad… and besides, it could be worse. We could be doing maintenance. That would suck no end."   
  
"He's right, you know," said a female. "Or you could all be secretaries. That's the worst."   
  
Drake smiled. "Hey Nikki. Problems in paradise?"   
  
She snorted. "What paradise? I'm stuck doing Hiwatari's dirty work all day! That brat's a nightmare!"   
  
"'Could be worse," said the typing soldier, glaring as the two other soldiers walked off to continue with their duties. "You could be secretary to that new general…"  
  
"Heck no!" Nikki squeaked. "I hear she's a nightmare. Cut up poor Abarov pretty bad, from what Hiwatari said this morning."  
  
"She… attacked him?" Drake turned his gaze to Nikki, a little stunned.  
  
"You bet! Pulled a switch blade on him and slashed his throat!"  
  
"Jeez… what's gotten into Yamue?"   
  
Nikki turned to the typing. "What do you mean, Yama?"   
  
The man shrugged. "You know what I mean. He's hired and given full access to an nutcase!"   
  
Drake smirked as he tapped away at the keypad. "She's not the only one with full access." Nikki leaned over his shoulder and grinned. "Recruits Motomura and Seito charged with maintenance duty for a month…"  
  
"Oh you're so wicked, Drake!" Nikki hissed.   
  
"Nicely done, soldier," said a cold voice. "Couldn't have done better myself. Drake turned to see a woman in military uniform, carrying a peaked cap. Her shaggily cut hair fell about her shoulder, covering half her face. Nikki stood up slowly.  
  
"General Kittenne," she said politely, before hurrying off with her papers. Drake swallowed hard. The General sat down beside him and smiled. She was so young…  
  
"So, you're a hacker?" she asked politely. Drake glanced around for support, but Yama and the rest of this workmates were hurriedly distracting themselves.  
  
"Err… I… umm…" Drake faltered. "I guess…"  
  
The General laughed a little. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. In fact, I was looking for someone just like you to help me with something."   
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes," Maria said silkily. "You're perfect for the task. How would you like ot be promoted to my personal assistant?"  
  
Drake swallowed hard again. "Me?" he managed to blurt again. Maria smiled.  
  
"Of course, I'll make sure you get a rank promotion. How does Captain sound?" Yama spluttered a little as he took a sip of coffee.  
  
"Captain? Me?"   
  
"And of course the pay will be favourable. Do you have a family to support?"   
  
Drake looked up into the odd whirling eyes and felt compelled to spill his soul. "My little sisters, my mother and my father who's in an asylum." The General nodded and got to her feet.  
  
"Well then… Drake Marlotte," she peered at his name tag. "I'll make the pay extremely favourable." She looked deep into his face and smiled. "Do you accept?"   
  
Drake swallowed hard. He didn't want to leave his post here, but something made his tongue say "Yes."   
  
The General smiled. "Good then. Come with me." As they walked away, Drake looked behind him, but no one looked up at him. He wasn't in their league anymore.   
  
****  
  
AN- I apologise for time travel, OOCness, new characters, oddness and anything else I already apologised for in the AN at the beginning. Oh, and stupidly short chapters. My bad. 


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